Metal Swarm

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Ten more Klikiss waited for him in the room, ready to fight. Several dead minions of the rival breedex lay on the floor, and workers were busy dismantling and carting the butchered bodies away. From behind, the warrior came hissing and clacking in pursuit. When the insect guards inside the chamber also began to move toward him, he flipped the activation switch, set the timer to three seconds, and tossed the flare grenade into the room.

  He memorized his path ahead and squeezed his eyes shut. He just had to get to the transportal wall. Bleeding, he staggered forward, counting to three, not even waiting for the flash. The intense burst of light drove the creatures back, and when he opened his eyes again, Davlin saw flaring spots. An alarming black static filled the corners of his vision. The pain from the open wound across his shoulders was incredible. Did the Klikiss exude some sort of poison? He could feel blood streaming down his back, down his legs.

  At last he reached the stone window. The smooth trapezoid seemed to beckon him. He slapped his hand on it, but the portal remained solid. Reaching up to pick a coordinate tile—any tile—he heard the Klikiss hiss, stir, and clatter forward. The grenade hadn’t stunned them for as long as he’d hoped.

  Davlin depressed a tile, and the transportal shimmered. He had no way of knowing which world it was, nor did he care. He tried to throw his body into what had been flat stone.

  One of the Klikiss grabbed his leg. Sharp claws dug into his thigh muscle, setting hooks and yanking him backward. Davlin thrust his hands through the transportal in a desperate attempt to grab the frame. Another insect warrior fell upon him, seizing his arm, tearing him away from the stone gateway.

  Davlin shouted and fought fiercely, but it was futile. Klikiss claws sliced the flesh of his arms; another sharp leg punctured his left side between the ribs. He was bleeding badly, too wounded to hurt them anymore.

  The Klikiss warriors turned him around and pulled him back, leaving a long, broad smear of blood on the stone floor. Davlin looked up to see two domates arrive in the chamber. They blocked off the room, and he had nowhere to go.

  135 YAZRA’H

  The Prism Palace began to glow like a sun. Some of its grand domes had already melted. The faeros seemed to be everywhere.

  The Ildirans needed their leader, even if the Mage-Imperator was not there. Prime Designate Daro’h understood his obligation—to find an effective way to fight against the unquenchable flames. And Yazra’h’s job was to keep him alive.

  She had dragged the Prime Designate from the skysphere chamber along with anyone else she could save. Even as they fled the throne room, the terrarium dome had turned into a giant magnifying glass. All of the plants and flying creatures blackened, withered, and burst into flames. The lone treeling atop the palace had been incinerated in the first pass of the fireballs.

  When Adar Zan’nh’s warliners struck back with water blasts from overhead, Yazra’h urged her companions to greater speed. The air itself scalded their throats and lungs. They ran through the shimmering passages, down stairs, across impossibly exposed halls, all in an effort to reach the outside. The three Isix cats bounded along.

  Daro’h, still draped in heat-resistant cloth, asked, “Can we get to the Adar’s warliner?”

  “I do not know—but we must leave the Prism Palace!”

  Osira’h and her younger siblings had bright feverish eyes; though they said they had blocked off the new thism/telink they had learned, they seemed to be united in a way even Yazra’h had not seen before. Focused.

  “We should go to where the seven rivers converge,” Osira’h said. “We might be safe in the water underground—at least long enough to get to the Adar.”

  Yazra’h grabbed the Prime Designate’s shoulder and turned him down another passageway. “Yes, we will do that. Out here!” She led the way until they emerged through a vaulted side entrance into stifling air that smelled of burned meat. Each breath scalded their lungs with hot steam from the Solar Navy bombardment. Broken panes of crimson and yellow glass left colorful, dangerous debris all around.

  Faeros danced across the sky, arcing plumes of flame like solar flares. The Adar’s warliners continued emptying their water reservoirs in their struggle to extinguish the fireballs. Another blackened faeros ship dropped like a dying ember into the city. Yazra’h’s eyes burned every time she tried to look at the spectacle.

  Hundreds of guard kithmen had already died, unable to stand against the heat. Now Yazra’h saw a squadron of mirror-armored jousters—champions—rushing together to face the elemental enemies. The burly athletes had thrown on their full mirrored armor, adjusted helmets, and grabbed their prismatic laser staves. She had fought alongside these men, trained with them, pitted her skills against theirs, and she considered them her friends. Yazra’h knew their exceptional abilities. Perhaps their weapons would work where others had failed.

  When a faeros ellipsoid swooped down at them, she shouted to her Isix cats, and they ran back into the meager shelter of the vaulted overhang. Daro’h flung his flame-resistant cloth like a blanket around himself, Osira’h, and the other children, pulling them all down together as the flames approached.

  The jousters raised their laser lances, sent out a flurry of razor-sharp beams, then ducked behind their mirrored shields. Some of the men screamed as gushing fire penetrated cracks and joints. Others stood firm, reflecting the flame and light with their mirror shields. While the bright ricochets did no damage to the ellipsoid, the shields deflected the worst of the thermal attack.

  By the time the fireball had passed, leaving heat ripples and a snapping sound in the air, more than half of the jousters had succumbed and lay in a pile of gleaming, shattered armor. One of the survivors rasped with a damaged voice, “Go, Yazra’h! Take the Prime Designate away!”

  Her group finally reached the spectacular inverse fountain where the seven raised streams intersected and poured down a gullet to where canals redistributed the water. Osira’h leaned over the open hole. “We’ve been down there. We can make it if we jump.”

  “Do as Osira’h says.” Yazra’h did not have time to question. Her cats leaped out of the overhang, fur bristling, lips curled back. Dropping his protective cloth, Daro’h stepped forward to help the children.

  The fiery avatar of the fallen Hyrillka Designate emerged from an arched doorway, light flaring all around him. His blaze scintillated against the crystalline panes of the Palace. His expression was calm and satisfied, but his voice boomed. “Where is Jora’h?”

  “My father is safe from you!” Daro’h shouted back.

  In a misguided protective gesture, one of Yazra’h’s Isix cats sprang straight at the flaming man’s throat. Rusa’h made a mere gesture, and the intensity of the flames around him brightened into a flash. Yazra’h screamed as her cat disappeared in a burst of smoke. The other two animals yowled, but Yazra’h shoved her cats behind her as a jagged sadness cut at her heart. Her face twisted in a snarl, but she would not throw her life away uselessly.

  “Osira’h, get into the water. Now!” The girl grabbed her brother Rod’h, and they leaped together over the edge of the foaming waterfall into the pool below. Gale’nh, Tamo’l, and Muree’n followed quickly.

  Rusa’h launched gouts of fire from his hands. Just in time, Yazra’h snatched up the flame-proof cloth and held on, protecting Daro’h, herself, and her two cats. She felt the buffeting waves hammer them, the furnace blast of air too hot to inhale. Her fingers were singed and blistering.

  The last few jousters locked their mirror shields, roared in defiance at the mad Designate, and pushed their lances forward to fire more laser bolts. One man actually thrust his crystal spear into the flaming body. The faeros incarnate writhed, cried out, and shattered the crystal lance before a wave of rolling fire cascaded around the mirrored jousters. They all dropped. Even their armor was insufficient against such a powerful attack.

  “Must I stand and watch them all die for me?” Daro’h cried.

  Yazra’h pushed him toward the wat
erfall. “No! You must let them buy your escape.” She was not gentle as she shoved him into the cascading flow, then bodily knocked her reluctant cats in after him. Just as Rusa’h spewed more fire at her, she threw herself over the edge and fell down into the misty roar. Narrowly missing her, the shock front rippled over the top of the converging streams, creating a geyser of concealing steam.

  She dropped at least ten meters, buffeted by pouring water, and plunged into a deep and blessedly cool pool where tangles of people and animals were struggling to swim. Her skin was burned and blistered. Much of her hair was singed, and she could barely see. Her two drenched cats paddled to keep themselves afloat.

  “This way,” Osira’h called out. They followed the current along a channel, passed through a catacomb, buffeting each other, and were finally swept out into one of the canals emerging from beneath the elliptical hill. Far from Rusa’h.

  The water was choked with the blackened bodies of pilgrims killed by the overflying fireballs. When the canal widened, Yazra’h pulled a bedraggled Osira’h and Gale’nh to the shore, splashing through mud that caked their reddened skin. After helping Rod’h with his younger sisters, Prime Designate Daro’h got out the communicator he had brought with him and called for Adar Zan’nh. The response was immediate and gratifying.

  “We have pinpointed you. I will send a fast cutter to pick you up. We cannot keep fighting these fireballs.”

  Overhead, even as the faeros in the sky grew brighter, the Adar’s warliner swooped, and Yazra’h spotted a tiny craft descending toward them. By the time the cutter landed, she had gotten everyone out of the water and through the reeds on the bank. She and Prime Designate Daro’h, Osira’h and her four siblings, and the two surviving Isix cats scrambled into the rescue craft, frightened, exhausted, and burned. But alive—all of them were alive.

  The Solar Navy cutter remained on the ground for less than two minutes before racing back to the flagship, leaving the fires of Ildira behind.

  136 TASIA TAMBLYN

  Even battered, patched, and covered with dirt from the crash, the Osquivel was the most beautiful thing Tasia had ever seen.

  After escaping from the Klikiss city, they had raced, bounced, swerved, and lurched across the uneven landscape, navigating by starlight, instinct, and nerve. DD had done his best to guide them, while Robb and Tasia struggled with the bizarre controls. Although a few Klikiss had halfheartedly given chase, the escapees had gotten some distance ahead.

  Robb pulled the groundcar to a stop in the isolated canyon when they saw the ship ahead. With a groan, Tasia climbed out of the utilitarian Klikiss vehicle. Though swift, it was anything but comfortable. “Everybody, get aboard as fast as you can. We’ll have to fly to the caves. I don’t look forward to landing there, but I’m not wasting any more time.”

  Orli pointed ahead of them. “Someone’s already there. It’s Mr. Steinman!”

  Steinman, Crim Tylar, and three other Roamers stood by the transport ship, holding weapons and shining lights at the vehicle. “About damned time you got here!” Steinman said. “What took you so long?”

  “A little run-in with the Klikiss,” Robb said. “We lost Davlin.”

  “And Margaret Colicos,” DD added.

  “Dead?”

  “Who knows?”

  The Roamers looked deflated. Nikko’s father shook his head. “Then we have to go back for them.”

  “We’ve got orders not to,” Tasia said, her voice curt. “Davlin would kill us himself if he thought we would risk all those people to save him. And to tell you the truth, I’m sure it’s too late.”

  Robb said, “We’ve got to get out of here now. The Klikiss are hunting for us.”

  Tasia cocked an ear and thought she heard clicking, skittering. But the insects couldn’t have tracked them yet. “Stay alert, DD. Use your sensors. See if you can give us fair warning.”

  “I will do that, Tasia Tamblyn.”

  Tasia shuddered, reminded of her own compy EA, who had been torn apart by Klikiss robots. She hated the whole damned lot of them—the original race and their robots.

  Crim Tylar hugged his son. Nikko’s breath hitched. He didn’t mention what he thought he had seen in the pale Klikiss hybrid. Nikko could barely deal with the knowledge and didn’t want his father to know. Not yet.

  Steinman said, “When you didn’t come back yesterday, we packed up. When we still hadn’t heard anything by this afternoon, we decided to come here and wait, in case you needed some rescuing.” He hefted one of the energy dischargers he carried. “We were ready.”

  “In the meantime, I ran a systems check and prepped the engines,” Crim said. “I was going to give you another hour before we flew the ship to the caves.” He looked at Nikko. “I’m glad you came back.”

  DD turned his polymer face toward the starlit sky, his optical sensors glowing. He swiveled his head back toward Tasia. “I am afraid a great many Klikiss are coming—low-flying ships and some solo flyers.”

  Tasia didn’t waste time. “Everyone in. Now!” She rushed the Friendly compy aboard, waited for the others to race up the ramp, then shut the hatch. “Company’s on its way! Get flying—how fast can we load the refugees aboard?”

  “A swarm of Klikiss adds considerable incentive.”

  Before the bugs could appear, Robb lifted the transport above the lip of the arroyo, and with the running lights off, skimmed along only a few meters above the grasses and rocks, hoping they wouldn’t be seen. “Tamblyn, do you remember anything tall that might get in our way?”

  “I walked it half a dozen times, but I’m not sure.”

  “I knew we should have taken the time to fix our local sensors.” He overcompensated, jumping upward when he saw a cluster of boulders. Crim Tylar sprawled on the deck, but quickly picked himself up again.

  In less than ten minutes, they spotted the silhouettes of the sandstone bluffs pocked with caves and overhangs. “I don’t know if there’s a good place to land, Brindle. Set down anywhere you can and we’ll start cramming people in.” She turned to Crim Tylar. “What’s our total, if everybody makes it?”

  “You think somebody might want to stay behind?”

  “I think we might need to rush things.”

  “Ninety-eight, I believe. Some of them kids.”

  “And UR,” DD said.

  “That’s well within our capacity,” Robb said. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Who’s worried?”

  He chose a bumpy patch of rocks and dirt in front of the main bluff and brought the Osquivel down with a blast of exhaust and thrown dust. Tasia was the first out of the hatch, and the others followed as Robb locked the struts down to temporarily stabilize the ship. He kept the engines rumbling.

  “All aboard!” Tasia bellowed, already seeing people running toward the ship. “This is the last transport off Llaro, and the bugs are right on our tails! We’ll have to use express boarding procedures!”

  “That means everybody run!” Steinman yelled. He and Tasia sprinted to meet them.

  Figures scrambled forward, some carrying packs and satchels, others just running as fast as they could. Mayor Ruis was in the middle of the group, shouting encouragement, nudging everyone along to the Osquivel. “Where’s Davlin? He should be helping us.”

  “Sorry,” Tasia said. Ruis’s face fell, and he shook his head in disbelief. Feeling a need to explain, Tasia added, “He bought us the time we needed to escape. He promised to find his own way off Llaro.”

  Ruis seemed to grasp at that faint hope. “Well, then, who am I to doubt him? He always manages to come out on top.”

  Though she had only one arm, the Governess compy shepherded the children under her care. UR cajoled them to move as fast as they could. Though several children were crying, they had all lived in fear for a long time. DD hurried out to help the other compy. Orli took two of the younger children by the hands and rushed them up the ramp.

  “No assigned seats,” Nikko said, standing next to his fathe
r. “In fact, not enough seats at all. Just pile yourselves in and we’ll sort it out once we get airborne.”

  As the last ten people jostled toward the bottleneck of the hatch, DD stared out at the sky. “Tasia Tamblyn, many more Klikiss are approaching. They must have followed us.”

  “Didn’t think we’d outrun them for long.” She shouted to the stragglers. “Move it! Fifteen seconds and I’m closing the hatch. Anybody not aboard gets left behind. Dive headfirst if you have to.” Panicked, the remaining survivors dropped their packs and possessions, and thrust one another forward, frantic to get in. Everyone made it, and Tasia had to elbow two colonists aside so she could seal the hatch.

  After climbing back into the pilot seat, Robb coaxed the repaired engines, watching the gauges, adjusting the controls. Tasia made her way to the cockpit, nearly deafened by the din of frightened passengers. Robb looked up at her with genuine concern. “If we blow out something, we’ll be stuck here forever. We never had time to do a real test flight, not even a full-fledged engine check.”

  On the cockpit status screens, Tasia adjusted the sensor band to scan the sky overhead. Numerous blips circled closer. “Sure, Robb. Take all the time you want. Five, ten seconds—whatever you need.”

  Without waiting for a go-ahead, Nikko reached between them and punched the vertical takeoff jets on the copilot’s controls, and the Osquivel shuddered off the ground. The ship rose higher into the air just as the low-flying Klikiss ships swooped after them like stinging wasps. Three buzzing solo warriors crashed into the hull, scratching at the hatch and windowports, but the injured creatures fell off and dropped to the far-distant ground.